


idol crushes are for the idle

by sadcloud



Category: BLACKPINK (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cliches abound, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-10 22:49:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13511376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadcloud/pseuds/sadcloud
Summary: YG has decided to kick off the new year with a collaboration, and who better to collaborate with than one of the hottest boy bands in the industry?Jennie thinks she’s hiding her dread well until Lisa finds her banging her head against one of the bathroom stall doors after the announcement.“Is this another Korean tradition I don’t know about?” Lisa asks in bewilderment as Jennie drags her out, hot-faced and muttering.





	1. jennie kim, melodrama superstar

The fans are too observant. The day after the awards show, multiple videos of her staring at him pop up.

No one would take it seriously of course. In a concert hall that busy, everyone half-blinded from stage lights and near deaf from the crowds, it’s easy to misconstrue any passing look as interest. But Jennie knows it’s not a mistake, and the knowledge makes her curl up inside and scream from the pit of her belly.

She hopes he never sees the video; she hopes he does.

He smiled back at her, and whether it was courtesy or not, it makes her floaty with glee for the whole next week.

Park Jimin—Bangtan boy, vocalist, curved eyes, taut arms, devastating smile.

Jennie secretly thinks he’s the most attractive idol in the industry, but she keeps that to herself. If she’s lucky, it’ll go to the grave with her.

She sees him often, more often than people outside of the industry would assume. It’s because her group is new, and YG prefers to stack music shows rather than split time with variety programs. The CEO is still old school hip hop in this way. Jennie doesn’t mind; she doesn’t think she’s cut out for variety.

Bangtan is in the middle of a comeback, and she sees the members backstage at least once or twice. They always seem to be having fun amongst themselves, although they nod politely at her whenever they see her.

She always bows back. Jiyong-sunbae always bowed to his waist when she was collaborating with him; she saw how respect garnered respect and kept the lesson tucked under her heart.

She never says hello though, unlike her members. She’s got bullying rumors; YG told her it’s best to keep her mouth shut in public when she can.

After ditching her group by the restrooms, Jennie shuffles into the empty dressing room and drops onto one of the couches. She’s still looking at her phone so she doesn’t notice the young man dozing on the couch across from her until a snuffle breaks the silence.

She looks up, expecting a coordi-unnie and freezes. The male idol, (a Bangtan rapper?), cheek resting against the sofa cushion, is smacking his lips and blinking himself awake. The long line of his throat is as white as paper, and Jennie’s eyes follow the bob of his adam’s apple in fascination.

Then his sharp eyes cut to her and widen. Jennie stares back in bewilderment.

“You’re from Blackpink,” the rapper drawls, his voice like gravel. A shiver rolls up Jennie’s spine. He’s either still sleepy or he always sounds like that.

“Yes,” Jennie says as she gets up slowly. “And I think I’m in the wrong dressing room.”

He watches her stand up, scratching the back of his blond head. He’s dressed in black from head to toe; denim, ripped knees, graphic tee, leather jacket. It’s just the style she likes best.

The realization that she’s checking him out and that he probably knows it, if the tiny smirk lingering at the edge of his mouth is any indication, makes Jennie hasten her departure. She bangs her knee getting past the coffee table.

“Ow,” she hisses.

“You alright?” The rapper has the audacity to laugh at her, and just for a moment Jennie’s temper flares. She glares at him, her whole face drawn narrow and mean.  

He makes a low sound under his breath that sounds like appreciation, but it makes her go hot with embarrassment. What on earth is she doing? Does she want to make her reputation worse? Stony-faced and eyes prickling, she stalks out of the room and tries not to make it look like she’s running away (even though she is).

She finds out later that the rapper’s name is Min Yoongi, and that he always sounds like he’s half asleep.

.

.

After that it’s hard not to notice him—Min Yoongi, Suga, that rapper asshole who laughed at her. He’s always in the group, and whenever she looks over to catch a glance of Jimin, her eyes catch on his dumb blond head. Sometimes he’s watching her back, stare lazy and unfathomable. She never knows what he’s thinking when he looks at her like that, but it never fails to make her tense up.

She always looks away first.

When Jisoo catches the tail end of one of their staring battles at an awards show, she leans in to whisper-yell, “Which one do you like?”

“Huh? What are you talking about, unnie?” Jennie reorganizes her expression. She’s been told her poker face looks more pissed off than nonchalant, but it’ll have to do.

Jisoo giggles at her. “Don’t play that card with me. I can tell when you think someone is cute, and you’ve been throwing glances at Bangtan since we were seated.”

Lisa, who’s sitting on Jisoo’s other side and caught maybe half of the conversation, nearly yells, “Bangtan? What about them?”

Both of them shush her in panic. It may be loud in the venue but Bangtan is literally sitting only a table away. The closest member glances curiously at them but swiftly turns his attention back to the performance.

Jisoo looks mischievous. “Jennie likes someone in Bangtan!”

Jennie looks scandalized. “I do not!” She sputters as Chaeyoung and Lisa squeal in unison.

“Why are you getting so red then?” Jisoo teases.

“The lights—the fucking stage lights are red!” Jennie waves at the ceiling and scowls when her members just laugh at her.

Now Bangtan is definitely looking at them. Jimin is holding his fist over his mouth in amusement. Yoongi quirks an eyebrow at her when he sees her looking, and Jennie reflexively glares back.

She nearly kicks herself for the reaction but she can’t help. He’s so annoying!

She doesn’t notice how he huffs under his breath and hides a grin.

A nudge from Chaeyoung catches Jennie’s attention. “Don’t be embarrassed,” Chaeyoung says secretively. “I think a couple of them are really cute too.”

“Like who?”

“Like…V or Jungkook…or Jimin,” Chaeyoung says shyly, looking down at the last name. Jennie feels a little sick.

She wants to tell Chaeyoung that she thinks Jimin is cute too so they have something to share, but her embarrassment clogs her throat. Chaeyoung liking Jimin makes much more sense than Jennie liking Jimin. Jennie doesn’t look like a nice girl or act like one; she has a _reputation_.

So Jennie keeps her mouth shut and squeezes Chaeyoung’s hand underneath the table cloth. “That’s cool. He was kind of hot when he did that shirtless act of his,” Jennie teases and just as expected, Chaeyoung squeals and holds her red cheeks.

Jennie wonders what would have happened if they weren’t idols, and there wasn’t a whole industry to fight through to get to someone. Maybe then Jennie could’ve stopped Jimin in the hall and talked to him like a normal person. No expectations on their shoulders, managers breathing down their necks, fans watching from every corner, or rumors lurking in every shadow. If it was just—them.

Here she is getting dramatic over a simple crush. Jennie tries (and fails) to focus on the show.

A sign that the universe is against her appears merely a week after the awards show. YG has decided to kick off the new year with a collaboration, and who better to collaborate with than one of the hottest boy bands in the industry?

Jennie thinks she’s hiding her dread well until Lisa finds her banging her head against one of the bathroom stall doors after the announcement.

“Is this another Korean tradition I don’t know about?” Lisa asks in bewilderment as Jennie drags her out, hot-faced and muttering.

The stylist is alarmed to see Jennie’s forehead all red and swollen, and Jennie gets an earful about it as she’s getting her makeup done.

“Are you alright?” Jisoo asks her when she’s moping around the practice room robotically going through the motions of the collab routine.

“Yeah,” Jennie says, staring at her reflection. Out of the corner of her eye, Jisoo makes a face at her.

“Are you that nervous about the collab?”

Jennie’s face goes hot. “No! I’m fine!”

If anything, Jisoo looks even more skeptical. Her face gentles, and in that moment, Jennie sees why the usual delivery boy always goes jelly-legged when he sees Jisoo.

“You know I’m here anytime you want to talk, right? Just give me the word and we can go get some ice cream or bingsoo.”

Jennie’s belligerence crumples like wet tissue and she looks down in shame, “Thanks, unnie. I know.”

Jisoo pats her on the head like a child. This is the reason why Jennie has always clung to Jisoo. She sees right through Jennie’s strong front to the cowardly girl within, and still treats her like a younger sister.

When Bangtan shows up, it’s a little awkward at first. The air is rife with uncertain glances and nervous coughs as they attempt to combine the routines they had practiced separately.

It’s only when Lisa, in all her typical guilelessness, offers to help a particularly duck-footed member with a difficult move that the awkwardness finally starts to dissipate. A couple of the Bangtan boys strike up a conversation with Chaeyoung about her recent acoustic performance, making her devolve into a mess of blushing gratitude. Jisoo finds comradery with the oldest member who looks like he could be her long-lost brother.

Jennie finds herself off to the side, partially involved in Chaeyoung’s conversation but too shy to actually say anything even though both boys (V and Jungkook) try to involve her. She notices that Yoongi is sitting down at the back, not even being subtle about it, even though practice isn’t over yet.

“That’s Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin says, scaring the wits out of her as he appears at her side. She feels her stomach jerk as he smiles at her, eyes curving kindly.

He’s so handsome she could puke.

“Oh, yeah, he um, raps?” Jennie stutters, just saying anything that comes to mind. “He looks like he raps well.” What on earth is she saying.

“He does. It figures you would’ve noticed the rappers first, huh? Since you’re from YG and all.” Jimin laughs bashfully. His golden skin looks like it’s glowing. Jennie averts her eyes.

“Yeah, it kind of comes with the job,” Jennie affirms, shyly returning his smile. She’s about to ask Jimin about himself (where he’s from, what songs he likes, _if he ever stays up till dawn thinking about what-ifs_ ) when she catches her reflection in the mirror behind him.

She’s pink-cheeked and grinning like a loon, but what makes her breath catch is Yoongi’s narrow figure at the back, cheek nestled in his palm as he watches her with dark eyes nearly hidden under uncombed blond bangs.

Their gazes lock through the mirror, and she gulps unconsciously. It might be her imagination, but she could swear that he winks at her.

Ridiculous.

The dance practices get easier as the groups get more comfortable with each other.

The music will include lyrics that their producers wrote, but apparently a couple of the Bangtan members had their hand in making the rap lyrics. Jennie isn’t that impressed at first—all YG trainees have to go through the purgatory cycle of composing their own music—but when she actually sees Yoongi rapping his part she’s spellbound.

He sounds both like himself and not when he’s performing—bigger somehow, more intense, like he’s amplified ten-fold. The charisma that she’s noticed lurking under his lazy surface reveals itself. He throws disses as well as any YG rapper.

She wonders what it would be like to rap with him, against him. He sounds like the underground.

And by the glint in his eyes when he meets her stare in the mirror, he knows it.

.

.

The collaboration is a resounding success, and afterward, life settles into monotony without any promotions to lift it up.

Jennie spends most of her days practicing her routines, and binge-watching videos of Yoongi’s performances. She still watches a lot of Jimin’s dance videos too, but less often than she used to. She doesn’t think about why that is.

Yoongi isn’t a bad rapper; not as polished as the rappers in her company, but not bad considering he hasn’t had to undergo the same brutal training as them. She finds herself watching and re-watching his videos, wondering how he would have sounded if he had been YG to start.

She puts her fascination down to curiosity—that’s all, she’s just curious. She’s a hip-hop-biased idol in a pop-flooded industry, of course she would be curious about any other idol rappers besides herself.

So when YG mentions the possibility of a rap collaboration with Bangtan’s rappers, she immediately agrees. She tries to look innocent when he studies her with a beady gaze, and sweats when he reminds her of the company dating policy.

But despite his suspicions, the old man sets up another collab between Jennie and one of Bangtan’s rappers. Jennie nearly screams when she finds out Yoongi has accepted the position.


	2. jendeukie, feels expert extraordinaire

Jennie’s manager drives her to BigHit’s company building for the new project. Once they arrive, Jennie goes ahead to the directed studio room by herself since her manager needs to take a call outside and Jennie doesn’t feel like waiting around when she’s here already.

The first thing she notices about the studio room is that it’s tiny. The second thing she notices is that Min Yoongi, pale, lazy, frustratingly charismatic asshole rapper, is spread across the room’s only sofa, fast asleep with a snapback over his face.

“He sure does sleep a lot,” Jennie mutters.

Sighing, she sits down in the room’s only chair and swivels around for lack of anything better to do. She’s about to check her phone when she notices the open laptop on the console. The screensaver glows temptingly and she doesn’t stop to think before tapping on the touchpad to wake it up.

She scoots the chair closer at the audio file that appears. This must have been the song Yoongi was working on before he fell asleep. Surely he wouldn’t mind if she listened to it? It is _their_ song after all.

She places the big clunky headphones hooked up to the laptop over her ears, around her pigtails, and presses play. Immediately her head starts bobbing.

 _Not bad_ , she grins. The beat is rougher than what she would prefer but it’s catchy, it makes her want to dance.

A pale form moves in her peripheral and Jennie shrieks, ducking. The headphones go clattering to the ground as someone—Yoongi it turns out—swears furiously under his breath.

When Jennie looks up from under her arms, Yoongi is fingering his scraped headphones in dismay.

“This was a new pair.”

“Sorry,” Jennie gasps, lowering her arms quickly, “I thought you were a ghost.”

“Really? I know I’m pale but I didn’t know it was that bad,” Yoongi says, revealing a surprisingly gummy smile that takes the breath out of Jennie’s lungs in quite a different way. His dark eyes steady hers for a moment before he turns away to straighten the laptop and reopen the audio file.

Jennie watches him mutely, listening to the familiar, heavy _ba-dump_ of her heart.

Oh no, she thinks.

_Oh no._

.

crack outtake

.

It’s a testament to Jennie’s willpower that she manages to restrain herself until she gets back to the apartment.

“You’re back!” Jisoo leans over the kitchen counter where she and Lisa appear to be making cupcakes. Lisa has on a designer chef’s hat covered in pink and black skulls that could only have come from a fan. “How was the meeting with Bangtan?”

In response, Jennie drops face-first onto the living room sofa and screams into the cushions.

Lisa raises an eyebrow as she continues to whip the cream. “So, good?”

“No, Lisa, I don’t think that means good,” Jisoo says.

Chaeyoung walks out of her room humming an American pop song that seems like any other American pop song but sounds like a platinum hit when sung by Chaeyoung.

She spots Jennie, now punching the sofa like it has wronged her, and smiles sunnily.

“Oh, looks like your meeting went well!”

Lisa immediately jabs her finger at the scene and makes a plaintive face at Jisoo that clearly says, _EXPLAIN THIS HYPOCRISY_.

Jisoo considers for a beat and then sighs. Sometimes you have to pick your battles.

“Never mind, let’s finish the frosting.”

.

.

It’s no secret that Jennie has no head for writing songs (which is why YG never uses her self-compositions) but she likes being included in the process.

To her pleasant surprise, Yoongi takes her opinions seriously. He slows and smooths the track at her comment of roughness, and spends nearly half an hour rewording a single line when she tells him it sounds awkward.

Her initial coolness melts under such consideration. It turns out, what she assumed to be arrogance is actually a sense of humor drier than most deserts.

It turns out, Yoongi is  _hilarious_.

In the short afternoon they brainstorm the lyrics together, Jennie is surprised at how often she finds herself biting back a smile, especially when it seems like Yoongi has made it his personal goal to kill her with sarcasm.

When he’s not cracking her up unintentionally, Yoongi tends to trail off into thought, long, bony fingers tapping out a rhythm to words only he can hear. Then he types up something new and asks her opinion on it.

In these moments, Jennie finds it difficult to keep her eyes off his profile—his sharp jawline and prominent collarbones. She aches for something she can’t put words to. When Yoongi smiles at her with just his eyes—narrow, lined with the evidence of too many all-nighters, but still _so warm_ —Jennie feels even more lost.

But hesitantly, hopefully, she smiles back.

.

.

“Typical of YG. I think that was a perfect take, Jennie,” Yoongi’s drawl crackles through the speakers, and Jennie’s chest swells with pride as she turns toward the window separating the recording room from the studio. “Thanks, Yoongi-opp—”

Jennie’s smile freezes. A crowd of faces are staring back at her, looking almost as surprised as she feels.

 “Hiii~” V, the one with the boxy smile, waves.  The easy friendliness reminds her of Lisa and she relaxes a touch.

 “Sorry about these idiots. I can kick them out if they’re being too distracting,” Yoongi offers, sounding like he’d like nothing better than to do just that. A bunch of snickers break out in response, as well as one whiny, “Hyuuuung.”

It’s impressive how the entire group has managed to bunch up into the tiny studio room. A couple of the members look as if they’re sitting on one another, and one hangs over Yoongi's shoulder like a particularly unwieldy scarf. Oddly, Yoongi doesn't appear to be bothered by it, although he seemed the prickly type when it came to skinship.

Jimin, still as cute as ever, is barely visible over the shoulder of the boy he’s hugging from behind, a kid who has eyes the size of dinner plates. Jimin is watching her with clear admiration, and that more than anything else re-inflates some of Jennie’s confidence.

“I’m okay—really, oppa! Don’t kick them out because of me.” Jennie twirls the wire of her headphones between her fingers in a nervous tic.

She means it, even if Yoongi doesn’t look like he finds her very persuasive. Performing in front of a bunch of idols isn’t nearly as nerve-wracking as performing in front of a panel consisting of YG and all the company’s most judgmental producers.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure!” Jennie makes an ‘ok’ sign with her fingers.

“…Fine. Let’s take it from the chorus,” Yoongi relents grudgingly. The group around him shifts subtly.

“Incredible, Suga-hyung is actually listening to someone else for once,” remarks one of the other rappers—Namjoon—just before Yoongi cuts the mic.

Jennie can’t hear Yoongi’s response, but it makes the whole group combust with laughter, even more so when he turns in his chair and flips them off.

Like many of Jennie’s respected company seniors, they decide to keep the dance routine minimal (read: nonexistent) to maintain the chic rapper image. Although it’s just an excuse to avoid memorizing another dance routine, Jennie is amused to find that Yoongi is wholeheartedly in support of it.

“I thought your group was famous for your routines,” Jennie says.

Yoongi rolls his eyes up at her from where he’s sitting on the practice room floor, lyric papers spread out around him. Secretly, she thinks it’s funny how he takes up about 200% more space than someone of his stature would be expected to.

“From now on, I want to be famous for something other than suffering on stage, thank you,” he says primly.

“Like what?”

Yoongi waves a hand at the papers. “Rap, what else?”

“But that’s impossible, oppa,” Jennie objects, and waits for Yoongi to look up at her before stating matter-of-factly, “That’s what I’m going to be famous for. You’ll have to find something else, like body rolls—I’ve got rapping covered.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows disappear under the edge of his beanie at her sass, and it takes about half a second for her front to break.

“You _brat_ ,” Yoongi says incredulously as Jennie giggles uncontrollably, hands over her mouth, “If only your precious YG seniors could hear you bragging now. They would whoop your a—”

“Yoongi, please!” Yoongi’s manager calls anxiously from where he’s lingering at the back of the room.

Without missing a beat, Yoongi redirects, “—butt back to New Zealand.”

Them’s fighting words. Jennie grins and tosses her long ponytail like she’s CL about to lay down justice. “I think the only ass-whooping—”

“ _Kim Jennie_!” her manager screams from the back.

“—will be yours when this track comes out and I leave you in my dust—sorry, unnie!” Jennie calls back, not even looking at where her manager is no doubt ready to tear her perm out. She would feel guiltier if Yoongi wasn’t casting an appraising eye up at her, like he had just found a puzzle box where he expected tic-tac-toe.

When he finally speaks, he sounds wondering.

“Well, shit,” a moan rises from the back like an audible representation of his manager’s spirit floating away, “Maybe it will be mine.”

Jennie: 1, Yoongi: 0.

When Yoongi’s not looking, Jennie turns and hides a silent scream behind the end of her ponytail. She forgets about the mirrors, and subsequently misses the set of managers in the back exchanging grim looks with one another.

.

.

“Hey.” Jennie looks up from her phone to find Jisoo hovering at her bedroom door. Jennie’s sitting on the floor, back against her bed, knees up, phone perched atop them. For some reason, Jisoo doesn’t come in, just leans against the doorframe.

“Manager-unnie just asked me to go to the mv filming with you. Insisted, more like,” Jisoo says, a little hushed even though they both know their manager is gone for the day.

Jennie shifts; she tastes a strange tenseness in the air but can’t pinpoint the source. “Why isn’t she going?” she asks, glancing at her phone as it goes to sleep.

“Chaeyoung begged her to go to the recording with her, for that idol show.” No more had to be said. Even if they were only using her audio clip, Chaeyoung could get cripplingly self-conscious over things the rest of them wouldn’t blink at. Their manager would need to be there for moral support.

“But that’s not the point,” Jisoo says, worrying her lip for a moment. “Jennie, why does manager-unnie think you need to be chaperoned?

Jennie stares blankly at her. “I…don’t?”

“She thinks you do!” Jisoo startles at her own volume and steps into the room to crouch in front of Jennie, putting them at eye level. She says, hushed again, “Jennie, she made me _promise_ not to leave you alone at the mv filming. She wants me to stick to you like glue, like we’re in pre-debut period again. But what I can’t figure out is _why_.” She spreads her hands like she’s asking Jennie to throw an explanation in them.

“Why is she acting like you can’t be left alone when we’ve done so many mvs already?”

“I—don’t know….” Randomly, the only thing that comes to mind is the way Yoongi had, earlier that day, oh so nonchalantly taken off his jacket and handed it to her as they were waiting outside for Jennie’s van. Her manager had stared at the jacket like it was leather poison. 

The exact same jacket that is currently laid out across her lap and knees like a blanket. Jisoo notices her fiddling with the zipper and then squints.

“Is that your jacket?”

“Yoongi-oppa’s.”

Jisoo pauses deliberately. “He gave it to you?”

Something about her tone makes Jennie defensive and she says, “What about it?”

Jisoo stares at her as terrible clarity leaks into her face. “Jennie…do you _like_ Min Yoongi?”

Jennie protests immediately, “No! Just because he gave me his jacket? Be serious, unnie.” But Jisoo looks down pointedly at where Jennie has clutched Yoongi’s jacket closer to her as if someone might steal it, and she flushes hot.

“Jennie,” Jisoo says, a world of meaning tucked into her tone.

And Jennie thinks about the past few weeks of composing, recording and practicing together with Yoongi; thinks about the months before when she couldn’t overlook his smug blond head, and how he always— _always_ —seemed to be watching her in return; thinks about the last recording session where she forgot Jimin was in the room because she had been preoccupied on having Yoongi praise her again.

All these thoughts condense down to something painful and undeniable, and her inner objection dies with a whimper.

“Maybe. Maybe I do like him,” Jennie says, at last, raising her gaze from the jacket to look at Jisoo with large, hopeless eyes. “Is that so bad?”

“Oh, Jendeukie.”

Whatever Jisoo sees in her expression makes her lean forward, and Jennie clings to her as her nickname describes.


	3. 제니김, master of disaster

In the middle of the shooting, as soon as the director breaks to change the camera angle of the scene, Yoongi turns his head toward Jennie and says sotto voce, “So, is there a reason why Jisoo is glaring at me?”

Jennie glances over at Jisoo who is standing by the director’s chair chatting amiably with the man, and then up at Yoongi under glitter-laden lashes. “She’s not glaring at you.”

Yoongi grimaces. “She might as well be.”

It is true that Jisoo had been sending decidedly cooler vibes towards Yoongi than she normally did towards other idols, but Jennie didn’t think that Yoongi had noticed it. He must be more aware of other people than she initially gave him credit for.

Jennie does what she does best—feign ignorance. “She’s like half your size and younger than you. Don’t be scared, oppa,” she says flippantly.

“You’re half my size and younger than me too,” Yoongi points out.

Jennie adopts a shocked moue. “And you’re scared of me?”

“When you’re in those heels, I am,” Yoongi says wryly, and in revenge, Jennie pretends to stab his ankle with the stiletto of her admittedly wicked-looking strappy heel. The rapper’s cry of fear makes the surrounding staff members laugh, but when Jennie looks over, Jisoo has an expression like granite, her dimpled upper lip flattened to a forbidding line.

 _I’m okay_ , Jennie tries to send with her eyes. _I’ll be okay. I won’t mess up_.

 _It’s not you I’m worried about_ , Jisoo replies with her frown, but Jennie misses the message as the director calls for the shooting to continue and the music begins once again.

.

.

It’s not a date. She has to remind herself because she keeps forgetting.

This. Is. Not. A. Date.

If only her traitorous mind would get the hint and stop screeching _DATE_ when Yoongi does little things like holding the door to the restaurant open for her.

It’s a tiny hole-in-the-wall, not the pseudo hipster kind with graffitied walls, celebrity signatures and artsy drawings. This is the kind of hole-in-the-wall that Jennie’s grandfather would patronize; the kind with cheap soju, bad lighting and dishes that taste like mom’s cooking.

Everyone inside looks as homely as the restaurant itself, and no one blinks when Yoongi and Jennie take an empty table, although the ahjumma serving them water clicks her tongue at Jennie’s bare midriff and too-short miniskirt.

This time, when Yoongi offers his hoodie, Jennie takes it with her face burning.

They just came from a photoshoot—escaped, more like—solely for the purpose of getting some food into Yoongi. Apparently, BigHit has a very different idea of dieting than YG does. While Jennie has been preparing for the collab stage by eating three square meals a day at the company cafeteria including any good luck snacks that Chaeyoung leaves her in her bag, Yoongi has been subsisting on energy drinks and little else.

“It’s not that bad. I actually don’t need to eat that much—can’t be bothered while I’m working anyways. My manager left me some boiled chicken breast in the studio a couple days ago,” Yoongi said, shrugging as Jennie stared at him with ill-concealed horror.

That led to her sneaking him bites of her own food during their meal breaks, and eventually dragging him out of the building when Jennie’s manager was in the bathroom and Yoongi’s manager was busy discussing concepts with the photographer. They would be back within the hour, Jennie reasoned to herself, and Yoongi needed food, what else could she do?

“At this point, I’ll have an entire closet full of your clothes, oppa,” Jennie jokes as she wraps herself in the big hoodie, pushing back the sleeves so they don’t hang over her hands. “I still haven’t returned your other jacket.”

“Oh, is that so?” Yoongi says, the spirit of nonchalance as he tastes some of the pickled radish. Jennie’s pleased to see that he takes a bit of all the banchan.

She can tell the diet has taken a toll on him. Yoongi’s white tee is baggier than it should be, and all the eyeliner can’t hide how bb cream puddles in his dark circles, emphasizing his exhaustion. She wonders how she looks crammed in next to him at this tiny table, oversized hoodie barely covering the glitter scattered over her thighs, her own caked makeup melting from the proximity of the grill as it heats up.

When the meat arrives, Yoongi takes the tongs automatically, like he’s used to being the one grilling. Jennie’s quietly thankful because she’s sure she would burn something if she tried.

She’s not so bad at cooking that her members bar her from entering the kitchen—anymore—but a wealthy background and a consistent supply of cooks has made it so that common, everyday activities like frying an egg or preparing a pot of rice are lost on her.

Yoongi silently places a piece of beef atop her bowl of rice, selectively deaf to all her protests that they came here to feed _him_. Jennie starts to make him lettuce wraps just to force him to eat some of the meat he’s grilling, deliberately not thinking about how her parents do this for each other when they’re trying to embarrass her in public.

When Yoongi shows her his signature method for eating barbeque quickly—sound effects included—she laughs so hard she nearly falls off her stool, and Yoongi grins so wide his gums show. Neither of them notice how the other diners look over and chuckle at the young couple, glowing in their own tiny slice of the world.  

.

.

She was just one of the many pretty faces in the industry. Gorgeous, for sure—there was no doubt about that—but a flower like any other in the bouquet.  

Then she cracked open her polite mask, and Yoongi was drawn in like a poor, hapless moth tempted by a flicker in the dark.

She would burn him to a crisp, he knew. He wouldn’t survive her. But what would it hurt just to watch? No one would notice an extra admirer in the crowd. 

So Yoongi watched, waiting for any hint of the girl he had seen in that dressing room—the one made up of fire, not ice. He didn’t expect anything to come out of it really, which was why he was so confused when he realized that _she was watching him_ _back_.

.

.

Hey

It’s Min Yoongi

Jennie?

Go away

?

Are you alright?

GO AWAY

Hey what’s wrong?

If you’re not feeling good we can cancel rehearsal tomorrow

Oh

YOONGI-OPPA?

I thought you were a stalker fan!!!!

Kekeke

Surprise

I got your kkt from your stylist at the shoot yesterday

Wow really?

I guess I can’t trust Kyungwon-unnie anymore

Oh shit

Don’t get me in trouble

I don’t want your stylist to hate me too

Jisoo-unnie doesn’t hate you!

I didn’t say she did

*judgmental emoji*

Oops

Sorry oppa

*crying emoji*

Anyways I need your opinion

If it looks bad I’m gonna redye it

*sends pic*

_Seen_

That bad huh?

NO IT LOOKS GREAT OPPA

Sorry my group was calling me

For dinner

We’re making dinner

Together

What’s for dinner?

Ramen!

You need the entire group to make ramen?

Ahh it’s a group activity here

Anyways I think your hair looks great!

Please don’t change it!

If you do I’ll be mad at you

*pouting emoji*

*angry emoji*

Kekeke

Alright alright

It’s nice to know the new color’s got one fan at least

I love it!

It’s such a pretty color

*heart-eyed emoji*

Keke thanks

Go make dinner with your group

I’ll see you tmrw ok?

Okay!

Goodnight oppa!

Nite Jennie

.

.

For the first stage performance of the collaboration, the whole group comes with Jennie for support. It doesn’t occur to any of them not to come together—not until their manager startles at seeing all four girls up and about that morning, rather than just one.

Since it’s still early, Jennie’s feeling particularly clingy, and she doesn’t let go of Jisoo as they enter the broadcasting building. Surprisingly, Yoongi is there before they are, in the dressing room beside Jennie’s.

“Jennie, I’m hurt. You don’t ever act like that with me,” Yoongi teases upon seeing her.  

He looks the same as usual, hoodie, black jeans, dark circles. His newly dyed hair, the only colorful thing on him, peeks out cheerfully from under his beanie as he sketches quick bows to the rest of her group. It’s unfair how awake he looks when he’s so sluggish usually.

It seems to take the other members off guard, if the way they hesitantly greet him in return is any indication.

(Chaeyoung mutters in English on how she knew she should have put on bb cream before leaving the dorm. Lisa helpfully passes her a stick of lip balm.)

Jennie doesn’t bother raising her head from Jisoo’s shoulder, and just blinks grumpily at the rapper. “I thought you didn’t like skinship, oppa.” Then she notices the white cardboard cup in his hand and perks up.

“Is that coffee?”

Yoongi takes a smug sip. “Yep. My third cup this fine morning.” No wonder he looks so bright-eyed—he’s riding the caffeine high.

“Can I have some?” Jennie whines, not above letting her tone get a little high and childish. She staunchly ignores how the rest of her group stares at her. Let them make fun of her later; she can practically taste the coffee already.

Yoongi raises his eyebrows in amusement but he obligingly hands over the cup. Seeing as Jennie doesn’t want to give Jisoo a heart attack, instead of sipping from the top as she usually would, she cracks open the lid and takes a short pull from the side.

She has to bite back an indecent sound as the coffee runs down her throat like a healing balm, warming her from the inside out.

“Good, right?” Yoongi grins at her expression. “It’s from a local coffee shop near here. I’ll show it to you sometime.”

“Deal,” Jennie says before reluctantly recapping the cup and handing it back. “I’m going to hold you to that. Our manager won’t let us have any coffee because she says it’s bad for our skin. I’ve been deprived since I got to Seoul.”

Yoongi holds a hand to his heart and says solemnly, “I’m a man of my word.”

“Sure you are,” Jennie says, rolling her eyes. “Which is why you gave me all the main chorus parts in the song even though you said we would sing them together.”

“You would inflict my singing voice on the world? I didn’t know you could be so cruel, Jennie Kim.”

Behind Jennie, Chaeyoung’s eyes dart between the two in fascination before she leans over to whisper something to Lisa who’s smirking ear to ear. Jisoo, by herself, just looks quietly miserable, like she’s watching the destruction of their group in slow-motion.

.

Flashback

.

Jennie drops her phone when Yoongi’s picture comes through, and the poor thing goes clattering under one of the couches. Stunned by her own reaction, she holds her hands over her mouth, eyes stretched wide.

Lisa pauses mid-step on her way to the bathroom. “Jennie-unnie? You okay?”

“Fine!” Jennie bites out as she slaps her palms over her own cheeks.

Get a hold of yourself, Jennie.

She’s about to go looking for her phone when she realizes Lisa hasn’t left yet. She’s draped over the back of couch, peering at Jennie with her head tilted like a curious cat. Jennie leans away warily.

“What?” she says as Lisa eyes her with suspicion. 

“Are you _really_ okay? Jisoo-unnie says you’re not fine even when you say you’re fine. I didn’t really get it before but I think I’m starting to.”

“I’m fine— _really_.” When Lisa doesn’t let up on the suspicious staring, Jennie melts a little. It’s nice to know that her group cares about her, even if it’s over a topic Jennie would rather not talk about.

“I’m okay, Lalalisa. Really really. Look—” She reaches under the couch and gropes around until she finds what she’s looking for. She wakes up her phone to show Lisa the tail end of the chat. “I was just texting with Yoongi-oppa and he sent me a picture of his new dye job. It’s for the collab project.”

Lisa looks at the picture in interest. “It’s a pretty color. I like it.”

“It looks like spring, doesn’t it?” Jennie says dreamily, staring at the photo. “Like the first flush of spring.”

Lisa glances between her and the picture a few times before looking up at Jennie through her lashes. “You like him, don’t you?” Her tone, low and secretive, makes Jennie redden because they both know she means more than just the friendly ‘like’.

“No, of course not,” Jennie blusters, “Don’t be silly—”

“I thought you liked Park Jimin, but it’s actually this Yoongi guy isn’t it?”

Jennie’s face drops. “How did you know about that?”

Lisa smirks widely. “Well, I wasn’t sure until you confirmed it just now.”

“You little—” Giggling, Lisa dodges Jennie’s half-hearted swipe at her. Dancing away on her tip toes, she calls back, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about your _huge crush_ on Min Yoongi!”  

“LISA,” Jennie shrieks, but by then Lisa is gone, her giggles trailing down the hall after her.

Left alone in the living room, Jennie sinks her fingers into her hair, groaning, wondering when the youngest had gotten so observant. It’s a few minutes before she looks at her phone again, and when she does, she promptly swears upon seeing that Yoongi has already sent another message.

_That bad huh?_

.

.

Jennie feels as if there are a lot more eyes on her than usual. When she and Yoongi are on stage running through a dry rehearsal, fans pack the seats like sardines in a can. She has a hard time not looking at them; she hasn’t seen a crowd this large for a rehearsal since Blackpink debuted.

On top of that, most of them seem to be girls. It doesn’t change much, but the rumble of the crowd is less of a rumble and more of a thrum, like a flock of birds delicately fluttering their wings as they wait for their prey to show a soft underbelly.

When the director is setting up for a second run through, Yoongi leans over and murmurs, “Nervous?”

Jennie’s instant reaction is annoyance, but Yoongi doesn’t look like he’s teasing her. His gaze, dark in the shadow that cuts across his face when he lowers his head to look at her, tracks her expression.

She shakes her head slightly, hyperaware of the mob staring at her from beyond his shoulder. Yoongi looks like he knows exactly what she’s thinking because his eyes narrow at her, unconvinced, but whatever he’s about to say next is cut off as the director calls for the music to start again.

Jennie is a professional though; she can handle this. If getting put through the YG wringer taught her anything, it’s that you can’t show the audience any fear—whether it’s your lazy shark of a CEO who holds your future in his stubby hands, or the mob of hungry eyes waiting for you to fall on your face.

She thinks she’s doing well at maintaining her cool front until the name-sign hanging around her neck breaks off and flies into the face of one of the back-up dancers who yelps and stumbles into another dancer. Like a domino effect, the entire left section of them go down, breaking formation.

Jennie is so mortified she can hardly perform properly after that, and the director, exasperated with Jennie’s continuous mistakes, calls off the rehearsal and tells them to come back when they’ve got their act together.

Their managers fly after the director in a flurry of corporate rage to either reschedule the rehearsal or force an apology. The audience of fans titters. Jennie stands in the middle of the chaos feeling lower than dirt until Yoongi gently grabs her by the arm and hustles her off the stage.

There are almost as many eyes backstage as there are in the front. The other idols must have seen the entire fiasco through the backstage TVs. Jennie lets her hair cover her face so she doesn’t have to see them watching her.

Somehow they end up in the bathroom. Apparently, even Yoongi has better sense than to try to leave when the building is surrounded by waiting fans.

He props an arm against the sink counter and runs his other hand over his tired face. “What a shit show,” he says with an earnest sigh of exhaustion.

Jennie cringes. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, staring at the tiled floor so hard her eyes blur.

Yoongi jerks like he forgot she was there. “What?” To his credit he sounds honestly confused. “Hey, no, Jennie. Look at me.” Yoongi waits for Jennie’s wary glance up at him before saying, “I was talking about our managers, and the director—that asshole—not you.”

“It was my fault,” Jennie says hollowly.

“Yeah, but everyone makes mistakes. The guy should’ve given you a break. That—” Yoongi cuts himself off with a violent look, and it should make Jennie glad that he’s getting angry in her defense, but somehow it just makes her feel worse, like she’s ruined everyone’s day.

“I kept making mistakes though. It wasn’t just once or twice, it was...,” Jennie trails off and glares at the floor, blinking furiously, willing her watery eyes not to spill over.

“Jennie, hey…,” Yoongi’s typically rough voice smooths out sweetly as he tries to calm her down. “You know how many mistakes I make on stage? Too many to count. I can never be assed to memorize all the routines right so I end up forgetting the moves. I wouldn’t be surprised if that director was just trying to get back at me through you.”

Jennie looks morosely up at him. “Really?”

Yoongi quirks his lips up. “Really. I think rappers are just doomed to be bad dancers.”

In the end, it’s the kindness that does it for Jennie. Her face crumples as the tears of shame and embarrassment finally overspill, and when Yoongi swears—a quiet _fuck, fuck, fuck_ —and hesitantly touches her head, Jennie folds into him immediately, desperate for a gentle touch and an excuse to hide her wet face.

Later on, she won’t remember much about this moment, overwhelmed as she is, and she’ll pound her head to better recall what happened. Some things however are unforgettable—like the firmness of Yoongi’s arms around her, the rough hoodie against her face and the drum of a heartbeat in her ear, pounding like a call for war.


End file.
